Lenore Weiss

He scared me      that mole     in the middle of his forehead a large puddle I didn’t want to fall into    He stared from across our kindergarten desks     anytimehe turned away from the blackboard

The night you tore up rose bushesfrom the front yard of my rental cottage,an ambulance came and took you to Highland Hospital’spsych ward where I watched a cigarette burn betweenyour

(Downstage right, a woman typing at a laptop with the words displayed on a screen for the audience to read. Her back is to the audience. Downstage left, a second

Sunday hike along the canyon, but not the morningyou returned from your journey interrupted,came back and rearranged my apartment. I let you do it— the mahogany table, a shared relic

After my daughter was born, my psychic friend determined that Arianna was the reincarnation of my mother, a woman who’d been brought up Catholic and didn’t believe in sex before

Each day I kept hearing more reports of new spikes in the corona virus. Governors around the country repeated the same mantra, but this time with more urgency and conviction: